Fighting For a Fleeting Dream
by AniMe-AnGeL048221
Summary: In a world or war and mystery, a girl struggling to stay afloat. Branded by the military with the title Alchemist, Keira Morgans could only wish for an escape. Could Roy Mustang the uprising star of the military be her lifeboat in this world of chaos? Roy/OC


**HELLO AND WELCOME TO MY STORY!**

**The first chapter is fairly short _teaser if you must_ But the continuation and update mainly depends on you Sweet readers and reviewers. Without your criticism and kindness the motivation for continuation will fail, the motor will stop and well ... you get the idea. I love to thank followers and reviewers.**

**And so on so forth! **

**Chapter 1**

**The Beginning**

I don't pray for the War, I Pray for the soldier because who cares if we win the war it's not a victory if everyone dies who will be there to celebrate it

As I stare into these ruins made by man, I tremble as I realize it's the end. But instead of working together we wage a war that can't be won. Echoing gunfire thundered through the snow covered city, the white war between Drachma and Amertis saw the town in debris, the efforts to clear the streets from carnage long given up. The Amertis military held a good frontline against the Drachma's, thought in handicap from their lack of cold weather training. A sea of light blue, the men and women in masses, the ground shaking with the march of a thousand of feet.

I had just buried another of the dead, this time a young child that had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. I laid the last wild flower atop the crumbling grave top and gave a solemn look to the sky, I had no knowledge of the child or his family but somehow through everything I had done, this was making me that little bit more human. Barely.

Upon leaving the grave a group of Amertis soldiers came towards me, they looked worse for wear, bags hung underneath their eyes, their once broad shoulders were now stooping. I stood from the grave hand leaving the dirt and the flower behind. The officer at the front spoke.

"Brigadier General Davis is dead." he said, before glancing at the grave and began to leave, his men followed, like dogs following their master. I stood in utter shock then anger. Brigadier General Davis the man that saved my feeble life more than once, my superior and father figure was dead. Tears threatened to fall, I told myself, ' I am a soldier, soldiers do not cry!'

"Wait sir! What about his body, you haven't said where his body will be buried!" I called out to the officer. He turned, "There was no body at the site, major, but the missile killed three of his other men so it is to believe that his body was well vaporised." Vaporise, hell No!

"Sir, no missile I know has that ability." I said, unable to hold my tongue .It was true all missiles that had been used in the war were all the same, from both sides. They were shrapnel based, meaning they didn't have any fire power in them.

"Do not talk back to your superiors like they don't know anything!" the officer shouted, "you don't have permission to speak." I was taken aback.

"Sorry sir." I said giving a weak attempt at a salute as the officers left. I was left at the little unmarked grave, body shaking in attempt to compress the sobs that threatened to leave my throat. Nothing added up in my mind, all a confused mess of thoughts.

It had been 8 hour, only 8 hours since I had been told that Brigadier General Davis had died, ever since then something had nagged in the back of her mind. Then at 8:37pm I slowly crawled helplessly out of my bed, leaving my cocoon of hope and warmth and made my way over to the missile strike area.

'Why were the military taking this death so seriously?' 'What were they hiding?' these thoughts appeared in bold lettering at the front of all the other thoughts, giant neon letters flashing above.

"Oi, no personal allowed in the death scene!" a voice said from the darkness, I, who had just jumped the barricade, froze. "State your name."

"Major Keira Morgans! I'm with the military!" the man's torch focused on me, illuminating the ground in front of me and a gun cocked, I raised my hands gingerly over my head. Turning slowly to face the officer, his white torchlight blinding me.

"No-body is allowed in there, Furher's commands" he lower the torch and motioned to climb back over to his side of the barricade with the tip of the gun, I obediently jumped back over. Tonight wasn't the night I was going to be pulling out lead from my limbs.

"Sorry sir." I apologized softly lowering my arms. The man made a huffing sound.

"Don't let me be seeing you around here again Miss Morgans." He said re-holstering his gun.

"Sure" I said giving him a quick salute, happily leaving his presence and firing range. With that I made my way away from the scene towards my tent.


End file.
